Almost Home
by CitizenKay
Summary: This story takes place during the final episode of Prison Break, Season Five. It's my attempt to fill in the gap in time between the scene where Jacob snatches Mike outside the lake house and the following afternoon, when Michael finally confronts Jacob at the warehouse. I've changed the rating to M to reflect the action that takes place that night in the cabin in Chapter Three.
1. Chapter 1

With shaking hands, Sara unlocked the door and eased it open, stepping back to let Michael in first. "We should be safe here...he doesn't know about this place." She followed right after him, hastily shutting the door and locking it behind her. The cabin they had entered was secluded and newly built, on loan to Sara from one of her fellow clinic doctors. They scanned the interior, a roomy, open space with a cathedral ceiling. The wall opposite the door was windowed floor to ceiling, affording a view of the trees that surrounded the cabin; the wall to their right was made of stone with a fireplace set into it. A bathroom and small kitchen completed the entry level and there was a sleeping loft, accessible by ladder. It was well-appointed and comfortable, but most of all it felt like shelter. As they looked around, their eyes rested simultaneously on a grouping of family photos.

"Family photos, huh? Reminds me of the day we walked into Deb's condo in Miami," Michael told her softly.

"The day I found out I was pregnant with Mike."

Michael looked down at the floor, growing quiet at Sara's allusion to their son. He was trying to feel his way carefully with her. Their reunion in Crete had been very brief, with much left unsaid. They had been together again for only a few hours, and Mike had been snatched from them. Lincoln had been shot. Understandably, Sara's concern for their missing child was paramount. He didn't want her to panic again the way she had at the lake house.

"Michael, let me come with you! We'll get Mike back tonight!" Sara cried suddenly, grasping his arm.

He shook his head and told her in a sympathetic voice, "We have to wait until tomorrow, as hard as it will be."

"If I go along," she pleaded, "I can help you!"

"I'm sorry, but no. It isn't safe...we can't take that risk," he replied, regretful but firm. I'll persuade Poseidon- uh, Jacob to meet me, alone, tomorrow afternoon. You can get Mike back then, while Jacob's busy... dealing with _me_." His voice betrayed his barely-controlled rage. "Tonight, I need to go alone and try to get into his office."

"But-" Sara started. A tear trickled down her ashen cheek. "Tomorrow afternoon? Michael, I'm worried about him!"

"Yes, of course you are...so am I! But think about it, Sara. If we confront Jacob now, we could be putting Mike in danger. It will be dark soon. He's not going to leave a kid alone in that place, not at night, and we can't be sure where he's planning to keep him tonight...probably not at your house either."

"You're right," she conceded with a sigh. "I know you're right...but that doesn't make it any easier. I just want him back!"

Michael laid his hand gently on her shoulder. "I have spent the last four years working on a plan to bring down that son-of-a-bitch, and it can only work if you're on board. I need to know if you trust me, if you're with me on this." Michael looked at her intently, and she answered him with a silent nod.

"Okay, good! Listen, you know what he's like as...as a _father_ ," Michael reluctantly choked out the word. "How does he get along with Mike?"

Sara thought for a moment. "He's...good with him. He's never hurt him, or even spoken harshly to him. Mike thinks of him more as an uncle than a father, I'd say. They get along. But Jacob is not who I thought he was. He's a monster!" She slumped down onto the leather sofa in front of the fireplace, clearly anxious and disheartened. Sighing, she put her head in her hands.

Michael sat close to her and wrapped an arm comfortingly around her shoulder. "If we stick to the plan, we will get Mike back."

Sara turned to him. "We have to get him back, Michael! We _have_ to!"

"And we will!" Michael took a deep breath, wondering how to deal with a version of Sara he had never known before: a mother on the verge of hysteria, whose son had been taken from her. He didn't know what else to say to allay her fears. He kissed the top of her head. "I need to go over to the campus now."

Sara stared down at her trembling hands and whispered, "Be careful then, okay?"

"Will you be alright alone here for a little while, sweetheart?" he asked her gently.

* * *

Michael drove away feeling woefully inadequate, worried he had failed to reassure Sara. Other thoughts tormented him as well: Had she been in love with Jacob? Did a part of her still love him? And what about Mike? His son had called Jacob "Dad!" Jacob Ness, the man he had known only as Poseidon, had been living with _his_ wife and _his_ son for three years, which was more time than he had had with them, he thought with outrage. He sighed and shook his head to clear those thoughts from his mind, willing himself to leave the past behind. Whether it was jet lag, his still-healing wounds or his sense of guilt, he was doubting himself and he knew he had to fight it. He _despised_ Jacob; he was possessed by an all-consuming desire for revenge, and if he couldn't harness that fury it might bring him down. He had to get his son back, and Sara too. There was nothing else but that.

The stunt he was about to pull off would require him to be at the top of his game, cool-headed and clever. He would lure Jacob away from his secret office at the university, sending him to the zoo on a wild goose chase, and while he was gone, gain access to his office. In Jacob's absence, Michael could steal his incriminating hard drives and hold them as a bargaining chip. It was key to getting Mike back; he had to make it work.

* * *

After Michael left, Sara explored the cabin more fully and found it had been stocked with all the essentials: towels, toothbrushes, soap and shampoo. There were coffee, tea, cereal and cans of soup in the kitchen. She found matches and firewood and lit a fire in the fireplace. When the cabin had warmed up she took a long, hot shower, finally feeling relaxed for the first time all day. She made tea and sipped it in front of the fire, fretting about Mike, praying he was okay. Then she speculated on how Michael was doing, hoping his scheme was working out the way he had planned, wondering when he would be back. She thought about the long night that lay ahead with a mixture of dread and anticipation. She told herself to get a grip on her emotions, to steel herself to fight for her son. More than an hour later when she heard Michael's car pull up, she flung open the cabin door and peered out into the fog and the darkness, and her face fell when she saw that he was alone. "Mike wasn't there?"

"No." He met her at the door and gave her a hug. "But he was earlier! Look!" He handed her a picture, drawn in crayon that had been left behind by Mike. It was a picture of Sara standing with their dog outside their house. "I got his hard drives! We'll get Mike back tomorrow."

"Yes...tomorrow." Tears filled Sara's eyes, but she smiled at the picture. "It's beautiful... it's so like Mike to draw a rainbow in the sky."

Michael sighed, "I need you to stay strong for me. Can you do that, Sara?" He pulled back and looked into her eyes.

"I'll do whatever you say, whatever it takes, to get Mike back." Her voice held a new determination.

"That's my girl!" He kissed her forehead. "We ought to eat now and then try to get some sleep. I picked up dinner. You must be hungry!" He held out a bag of Chinese takeout food.

Sara took the bag from him and arranged the little cardboard cartons of Chinese food on the table in front of the fireplace, thinking how enchanting an evening this could have been, under different circumstances. "Cashew chicken, Szechuan beef and broccoli, egg rolls and jasmine rice?" she mused, looking up at Michael. "This is exactly what we ate in Chicago! On our first night back together. You remembered!"

He nodded. "That night _was..._ rather memorable," he smiled, "a great beginning. Maybe it'll bring us luck."

Sara thought about Mike: by her reckoning, their son had probably been conceived that night, the very first time she and Michael had been intimate. "It's a lovely gesture, but I don't think I can eat anything."

He offered her the carton of egg rolls. "Just try a little. When did you last eat? It smells delicious," he said encouragingly. "You need to eat something, Sara, to keep up your strength. "

It _did_ smell good, Sara admitted to herself. "You're right, I should. I probably won't sleep a wink tonight, and I haven't eaten all day."

When they had finished most of the food, Michael handed Sara a fortune cookie. She cracked it open and said ruefully, "Did you pick this one specifically for me? It says 'Make patience your ally.'" Michael opened his and his read, "'Courage is not the absence of fear; it is the conquest of it.'"


	2. Chapter 2

After having dinner, they sat together on the sofa and stared into the embers of the fire. Michael recalled wistfully, "Mike called him 'Dad'."

The cabin and the food had worked a kind of magic, easing Sara's tension. Michael's comforting presence and the warmth of the fire were making her feel almost drowsy. She laid a reassuring hand on his knee. "He's just upset and confused! We'll talk to him…he's a smart kid, he'll understand." She thought about Mike, where he might be, what he was doing now. "I hope he's safe."

Suddenly, the idea of her son in the hands of the man who had planned to kill her and Michael struck her like a blow to the face, and her tone turned bitter. "That bastard is lying to him, manipulating him...that's all he's ever done- "

"You don't think he'd hurt him, though...do you?" Michael asked.

"I can't imagine him hurting Mike, but I couldn't have imagined him doing this either." Sara indicated the darkening bruise on the side of her face where Jacob had hit her.

" _He_ did that to you?!"

"I'm okay." Sara laid her hand on top of his. "What's important now is Mike. I don't believe he'll hurt him. His affection for him seems real. Everyone loves Mike. He's irresistible...like his father." She smiled at him reassuringly. "The thing about Jacob is that... he's insanely jealous of you, Michael, and he's obsessed with beating you. He wanted to have us, Mike and me, because we belonged to you."

"He likes to pull my strings, to control me. He's using all of us as pawns in his sick game, and he knows that my weakness is my family."

"Well, Jacob's weakness is his arrogance, but it's just a mask for his insecurity. He always has to believe he's got the upper hand. Pierce his armor and he's nothing but a second-rate bully, terrified of being exposed," she told him.

Then Sara softened her tone. "As for Mike, he idolizes you, his idea of you. He's fascinated by mythology...he built a model of the Acropolis. You're like a Greek god to him!"

"A Greek god, huh?" Michael shook his head slowly. "That's a lot to live up to. I hope I won't disappoint him."

"You won't disappoint him." She looked down, and her next words came out reluctantly. "Mike understood when I…remarried… that Jacob was not his father. I wouldn't have allowed him to think otherwise." She went on. "He calls him 'Jacob', not 'Dad!' He knows who his real father is! When he gets to know you..." She smiled at him.

Guilt distorted Michael's features. "What about when Mike realizes all I've put you through? You didn't deserve any of this. What if he hates me for that?"

Sara closed her hand firmly around his forearm. "Michael, he doesn't need the whole story. He's just a kid! Linc and I told him... you were sick, and you died. Mostly, we talked about the happy times." She smiled, picturing how Mike's eyes had shone hearing their stories about his father. "He knows we loved you. And missed you." She grew quiet. The truth was, she had hid her grief. Afraid the enormity of her loss would drag them down, she had put on a brave face for her son and married Jacob so Mike could have a family. With anguish, she thought how misguided that choice had been. But now, only two things mattered: reassuring Michael, and getting Mike back. "You will get the chance to be the dad you wanted to be."

Michael sat, still and silent. "And... us?" he asked her tentatively, his eyes cast down at the floor.

"I've made mistakes," she replied. She knew Michael didn't blame her for marrying Jacob, but she blamed herself. Why hadn't she seen what he was? How had she been so blind? She forced herself to shake it off. There would be plenty of time for self-recriminations later. "But you need to know that..." she took a deep breath "...my feelings for you haven't changed. I still love you, Michael."

Michael exhaled. "You have no idea how I've wanted to hear you say those words!"

"We'll begin again, right where we left off: our wedding day. What a beautiful day..." Her eyes were bright.

"You were the most beautiful part of it." He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "And you are even more beautiful now."

Sara's blush was visible in the firelight. "Michael Scofield, are you flirting with me?"

"There's so much lost time to make up for, I'm not going to waste any of it," he told her. "I didn't get the chance to tell you, that day...to tell you how much it meant, that you were willing to marry me."

"I never doubted I was doing the right thing."

"Well, I was as nervous as hell," he admitted, "until the moment I saw you there on the beach...my bride, barefoot and pregnant."

Sara rolled her eyes at him and grinned, relieved they could tease each other the way they always had.

"Seriously though, I was afraid that when you got to know me better, you might have regrets," Michael continued. "We'd only known each other for a few months, and under trying conditions; we already had a baby on the way... I didn't even have a job."

"Yeah," she shrugged. "I wasn't worried. I figured if we ran into financial difficulties, you could rob a bank."

Michael laughed and nodded.

Sara smiled wistfully, thinking of Mike again. She leaned back against the sofa cushions and stifled a yawn.

"Hey, it's late. Maybe you should lie down now and try to get some sleep," he suggested.

"What about you?"

"I need to get cleaned up, and then I've got a couple phone calls to make," he replied. "I'll bet it's nice and warm in the loft. Why don't you go up and see?"

* * *

Sara climbed the ladder to the loft and lit candles on the dresser, slipped off her shoes, pulled down the quilt and top sheet and stretched out on the bed. She heard the shower come on. Several minutes later, she could hear Michael speaking to someone in a low, urgent voice. He hung up and made another call, this time to T-Bag, planning their morning rendezvous. As he started up the ladder she heard him quietly exclaim, "Oww!" in pain, and she realized that, of course, he was still healing from his injuries in Yemen. She stood up.

"Michael, let me take a look."

"I'm okay," he objected.

"No, you're not," she countered in a determined voice. "You're still having pain. I need to see your wounds."

"Honestly, Sara, I'm fine-" he began, but she cut him off.

"Michael, I would be remiss if I didn't examine you. Please."

He obliged her by lifting his shirt. Just as she had suspected, the skin of his abdomen was still pink around the site of his healing wounds. Sara frowned and shook her head at him, then descended the ladder and returned from the kitchen with a jar of coconut oil. "This should help. Coconut oil has healing properties." She motioned for him to lie down on the bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Michael removed his shirt and lay down, watching her out of the corners of his eyes as she undid his zipper and rubbed the coconut oil onto his belly. He inhaled sharply when her fingertips touched his skin; he squirmed and clutched at the sheet, balling the fabric in his fists.

"Relax, now... I'll be gentle." As the coconut oil melted onto his skin, the scent of it filled the loft. Sara examined his wounds with a practiced eye. "There is some minor inflammation, but otherwise you seem to be healing nicely. How bad is your pain?"

"It's nothing, really," he replied tightly, fidgeting beneath her hands.

Sara pressed her palms onto his abdomen, gently kneading. "Does that feel better?"

"Ahh..." Michael groaned. "...Sara!"

She stopped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." She resumed massaging him with a softer touch.

"You're not... hurting me." He put his hands on top of hers. "Quite the opposite." He looked up at her. "I've dreamed about you...for seven years," he murmured, "to have you touching me, like this..." His words came out hesitantly.

Sara stared back at him, transfixed by the sight of his bare chest, his new tattoos. Wordlessly, she bent over and kissed him, softly at first and then more insistently. Michael reached up and took her face in his hands. She pulled back just a little to look into his eyes, and what she saw there made her kiss him again with an intensity that stopped his breath. The sound of his moan, low in his throat, started a pulse throbbing between her legs. Michael broke the kiss.

"I want you back, Sara."

She looked at him.

"But...I...we can wait," he offered. "If you don't feel-" he began. "Maybe tonight is not..."

Sara was having none of his hesitation. "Shhh, Michael..." She kissed him for a third time, then stood and unbuttoned her pants and let them fall to the floor. "I've missed you...so much." She lay down beside him and pressed the length of her body against his. Gently, she turned his face to hers and kissed him with an open mouth, stroking low on his belly with her fingertips, a move that made his stomach muscles ripple. "We belong together," she told him tenderly.

In response, Michael slipped his hand up her back inside her shirt, found the clasp of her bra and undid it. "Please, can I just look at you?" Sara accommodated him, sitting up and removing her bra and shirt. "Oh, Sara..." Michael marveled at the sight of her bare breasts and torso, his eyes bright with longing. "Tell me this is not a dream!" He took her hand and drew her down beside him again, and his lips found hers. He kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth, gentle but demanding. He slowly inched her panties down until they reached her knees and then she kicked them off. Now she lay naked next to him.

Michael raised himself on an elbow, drinking in the view of her body in the candlelight. "God, you're beautiful!" He slid his hand behind her neck and bent his face to hers. His lips grazed her cheek, sending shivers though her that made her tremble. "If you want me to stop, better say so now," he murmured into her ear.

"Make love to me."

"Do you mean it?"

"Yes, I mean it!"

Michael rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "If you're sure..." he whispered. He leaned in and kissed her. Then he rose and slid off his pants and boxers and tossed them onto the pile of clothes on the floor. Sara felt a thrill of excitement at the sight of his naked body, his erection. "I want to show you how I feel about you," he told her. He lay down beside her and, with deliberation, lowered his mouth to her already-erect nipple and flicked it with his tongue. Then he took it into his mouth, sucking on it tantalizingly. He touched Sara between her legs, and finding her wet and swollen with arousal there, he gently inserted his fingers inside her.

Sara whimpered his name, "Oh, Michael..."

Michael took some coconut oil from the jar and spread it on Sara's belly, smoothing it upward, massaging her breasts with his hands, and then down, stroking her inner thighs with his fingertips. Delighting in the sensation of his touch, she felt wetness surge between her legs and was seized by an intense yearning for him. She looked deep into his eyes and smiled at him. "I love you, Michael." Before Michael could react, Sara got up and straddled him, took hold of him and put him inside of her. She could tell by the expression on his face that he was surprised, but also that her boldness excited him. She pinned Michael's hands down and let her breasts brush his chest, rocking her hips, moving against his bare thighs and belly. Her body enveloped him as she hungrily drew him in, deeper and deeper. Michael moaned aloud, "Jesus, Sara!"

"Am I hurting you?"

"Hurting me? No!" he gasped out, dizzy with desire, "You're killing me!" He bucked up against her involuntarily. "I won't last long if you keep doing that," he exclaimed, telling her he would climax too soon with her on top. Michael rolled her over, careful to stay inside her, never taking his eyes off hers. He gave her a lingering kiss, reaching beneath her and holding her close while he slowly stroked into her. As his arousal grew he began to take her harder, his head bent in concentration. "Sara..." he panted, saying her name reverently, "you feel... so... incredible, I just can't..."

Sara, rising up to meet his thrusts, could barely speak. "Michael!"

"Tell me... if I'm too rough!"

Sara felt like she would never get enough of him. She was getting tired and sore but she didn't want him to stop. She no longer needed sleep... she just wanted him deeper, to have his sweet weight pressing down on her, to cleanse her of Jacob. She watched Michael's emotions sweep across his face and felt his sweat drop onto her breasts. When he bent his face to hers and kissed her tenderly, his kiss brought tears to her eyes. She grasped his thigh, pulling him in, and felt him grow even larger and harder. She wanted there to be no end to her bliss. It was an act beyond physical pleasure: a way for Michael to reclaim her, for her to end his doubts about where her affections lay; a new first time for them.

Sara's hair fanned out around her face like a flame and Michael grasped a handful of it in his fist. She slid her hands behind him, feeling the muscles of his butt flex in exertion as he thrust into her, over and over. Feeding off one another's excitement brought their passion to an almost unbearable level.

They moved together in an increasingly frantic rhythm until Sara felt as if she had taken Michael's entire body inside her, like she was going to explode, and she shouted his name, shuddering convulsively. The sensation of rocketing skyward at high speed overtook her. Her climax fluttered around him and he followed right after her, emptying himself into her thoroughly, pinioning her beneath him. They lay spent and panting for breath, holding onto each other for dear life, and then the tears came.

"I'm sorry, Michael," she sobbed, clinging to him.

"Sorry? For what?" he asked her, alarmed.

"For crying."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm crying too."

Sara laughed a little, still trying to catch her breath. "It's... overwhelming! I thought you were dead, and now, we're lying here together... oh god, you're so very much alive!"

He answered softly, "Yes, I'm alive."

"And you sure as hell know how to prove it!"

"Was that a compliment?"

"It most certainly was!"

"Thank you!" He gave her a kiss and grinned at her. "Uh, by the way, Sara... about before? Me too."

Sara lightly slapped his cheek and laughed. "Michael Scofield, you did _not_ just say that!"

Michael laughed with her and then his tone turned serious. "You know how I feel about you, don't you? It should go without saying."


	4. Chapter 4

"No, it shouldn't. I need to hear you say it."

"Then to be clear, I love you, Sara. Don't ever doubt it." He gave her an exquisitely tender kiss. " _I_ _love_ _you_." His eyes filled with tears as he stroked her hair.

He slowly pulled out of her and then drew her close to him again. "I hope it was... okay?"

"Seriously, Michael? That was way better than okay!"

He touched her cheek. "What I meant was ..." he glanced down at himself "...without a condom."

"When did we ever use those?" she asked him pointedly. "Forget it. I would not have _allowed_ you to wear a condom!"

"I just thought... " he paused, as if he were loathe to bring it up "...uh, birth control?"

Sara heard a question that lay unspoken between them: Why hadn't she had another baby?

"I'm sorry, Sara. I guess I should have said something earlier."

"Michael..."

He watched her face, waiting.

She continued softly, "You and I never practiced, or discussed, contraception. Have you ever wondered about that?"

"Well, we were... under extreme duress. It seemed like you got pregnant before we even had time to think about it."

" _I_ thought about it," she confessed. "I could have said something, or done something. But I didn't..." she shrugged, "because, I guess... I _wanted_ it to happen?"

Michael stroked her hair and closed his eyes.

"Not that I was consciously aware of it."

He remained silent, letting her tell him.

"Taking that pregnancy test," she grimaced, "...waiting for the result, that was harder than waiting for any grade in medical school!"

He looked at her and smiled, his eyes full of tears.

"It was absolutely terrifying! But... _your_ baby? I prayed for it to come out positive!" She paused. "I wasn't trying to trap you into anything..."

"Of course you weren't. You don't have to tell me that."

"Maybe it was because I was afraid I'd lose you? Because very damn day felt like it might be our last? Getting pregnant then was euphoric _and_ frightening. All I know is, that Mike," she drew in a deep breath, "he ...is the most incredible gift you could ever have given me!" Her lips quivered. "He's so like you it's uncanny!"

Michael's own eyes were overflowing. "I don't even know him, and I love him."

Sara laid her palm against Michael's cheek. "Mike saved my life. I mean that literally. After you were gone, I..." Her voice trailed off. "Conceiving our baby was the luckiest 'accident' I've ever had, and if we...if it happens again, nothing would make me happier."

Michael sighed with relief. "More than anything, I want to make you happy, Sara! And Mike too, when we get to know each other."

"You will! We'll get our boy back, together." She squeezed his bicep and grinned at him. "Being with you makes me feel stronger."

"Being with _you_ makes me feel like my bones are melting. I'm still shaking! I wonder if I'll be able to stand up!"

Sara laughed. "It restores me, somehow, being together with you like this." She stroked his bare chest. "You know?"

"Can I get back to you on that in the morning? I'm all done in." He gave her a slow kiss and then said earnestly, "I didn't mean to rush this, tonight... I just wanted to make you feel better."

"And you did," she responded with a contented sigh. "You have no idea!"

"I think, maybe I do," he told her softly.

"Aside from the fact that you're kind of cute..." she smiled at him, and then her voice turned serious, "I won't take a single day for granted, Michael. When I think of all the times I wanted you and couldn't have you..."

"I'll make it up to you. You know I'm putty in your hands when you play your doctor card on me." He stroked her arm with his fingertips. "So, were you planning to seduce me when you started with the coconut oil?"

Sara feigned an indignant tone. "Seduce you? Michael, I'll have you know I am a trained professional."

"Uh huh. Where did you say you went to medical school, again?" he teased her.

Sara patted his cheek. "Enough! My patient needs to rest now."

"Whatever you say, Dr. Scofield. Treat me with any therapy you find necessary. My life is in your hands."

Sara pulled the sheet and comforter up over them and settled herself, satisfied and grateful, against Michael's warm, naked body. "I will, as long as you promise me this: now that you're home, you will stay home."

Michael wrapped his arms around Sara and kissed her. "I'm almost home," he corrected her. "Tomorrow, when we have our son back, _then_ I will be home."

* * *

As the morning light seeped faintly through the loft window, Sara opened her eyes, wondering for a split second where she was. Then she felt Michael's solid warmth pressed up against her. Last night hadn't been a dream. A tear rolled down her cheek. She inched away from Michael slowly so as not to wake him, but he reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Don't go! Lie here with me, just a minute longer."

She turned back to him and kissed the top of his head. "Good morning, cupcake," she murmured. "That was quite a wedding night... delayed by a few years."

"It was worth waiting for," he told her.

"How did you sleep?"

"Like a dead man," he answered in a groggy voice. "Did you drug me?"

Sara smiled. "The antidote is coffee. There's a bag in the kitchen. Would you like me to make us some?"

"I can make it. Come here." Michael wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "We have a busy day ahead of us. Today I confront Jacob face-to-face, and we get our son back. It's bound to be intense. Are you ready for this?"

Sara nodded. "I can't wait to see Mike. My patience is all gone!" Then she asked him, "When are we meeting Whip and T-Bag?"

"What time is it now?"

Sara glanced at her watch. "Nearly six-thirty."

"I arranged for us to meet them at eight o'clock. It's early, but there's still a lot of planning left to do." He kissed her then and got up. As Michael dressed, Sara stood and gazed out the loft window at the morning sunlight filtering low through the trees, mentally steeling herself for what lay ahead. Trying not to worry, anxious to have Mike safe in her arms again.

"What a beautiful sight!" Michael exclaimed in awe.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and then returned to looking at the woods outside the cabin. "It looks like it's going to be a nice spring day, here in upstate New York..." she replied, her thoughts on Mike.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her still-naked body, planting a tender kiss on the back of her neck. "I'm looking at _you_ , Sara. You're...very distracting. Be a good girl for me now and put your clothes on," he said in a soft voice, "while I go make you a cup of coffee."

As Michael descended the ladder to the kitchen, Sara dressed and made the bed, hoping Mike was safe, mentally sending him her love, anticipating the moment when she would see him again.

They sat close together on the sofa and looked out the windows at the beautiful spring morning, nervously sipping coffee. When it was time to go, they stood and wrapped their arms around each other, holding on tight. "Are you ready, sweetheart?" he asked her. "Let's do this!" she exclaimed.

* * *

They arrived at the warehouse and while they waited for Whip and T-Bag, Michael promised an anxious Sara that they would soon have Mike back. They didn't have to wait long before Whip and T-Bag strolled in, speaking to each other in loud profanities, looking as restless as racehorses in the starting blocks. Whip embraced Michael with what looked to Sara like real affection and she imagined him as the younger brother Michael had never had. What, she wondered, had they endured together in prison? T-Bag paced back and forth, smiling nervously.

Just then, Lincoln appeared in the doorway, looking only a little the worse for wear for having been shot and then walking out of the hospital against medical advice. "Linc! Where have you been?" Michael asked him. Sara hugged him and exclaimed, "You amaze me, Lincoln! I hope Mike inherited your stamina!"

Michael briefed them all on his plans for the day, discussing their individual assignments, and then he got behind the wheel. Whip and T-Bag would be going with him to meet with someone Michael called "Blue Hawaii," and then on to his rendezvous with Jacob. Michael carried the hard drives he had taken from Jacob's office, his bargaining chip to exchange for Mike. Sara's job was to go with Lincoln to the university, find Mike and get him back. Suddenly, Sara jumped from Lincoln's car. "Michael, wait!" she yelled as she ran to his SUV.

He stopped and turned his head toward the window. Sara leaned in and told him, "I have a message I want you to deliver." She spoke quietly into his ear, then said aloud, "Please be careful." She kissed him. "I love you."

Michael raised his eyebrows and smiled back at her. "I love you too, Sara."

* * *

Finally, after four years of hell, Michael's moment of confrontation with his nemesis had arrived. He stood across from Jacob, ready to put an end to their rivalry. As they stared each other down, Michael said casually, "Oh, before I forget, Sara asked me to deliver a message to you."

Jacob seemed taken aback but he raised his chin defiantly, a smug look on his face. Michael smiled sardonically back at him and spoke in an icy voice. "She wants you to know... she slept with her husband last night."

Jacob glared at Michael and clenched his teeth in fury. For an instant, a glimmer of indignation flashed in his eyes, a sign that he had been unsettled. Michael understood that Sara had given him a way to throw Jacob off his game. And now, he was going to beat him.


	5. Epilogue

Epilogue: Sara's letter to Jacob in prison

Jacob-

My first act, the day after I got my son back, was to begin legal proceedings to annul our sham of a marriage. The court awarded me all of your financial and personal assets. Some of your things I returned to your parents, some I donated to the university, and the rest I gave to charity. There is not a spec of anything related to you in my house or in my life.

The seven years you stole from me, my husband and our son cannot be returned to us. I will never forget or forgive what you did. But you should know that we are happy and whole. You never stopped me from loving Michael, or missing him, or fantasizing about him. He is a hundred times the man you could ever be, in every possible way. You might recall asking me once why I insisted on keeping his name. The reason was simple: even when I thought he was dead I still belonged, body and soul, to Michael Scofield.

There is one thing, and one thing only, for which I am grateful to you: that you did not harm my son, at least not physically. Had you so much as damaged a hair on his head, I would have exacted the ultimate revenge. As it stands now, you will most likely die behind bars where you belong.

Game over, Jacob.

You lose.

-Sara Scofield


End file.
